Cooking up a storm
by LauraLambo
Summary: Hannibal is a celebrity tv chef, and Will is his manager. But how will their relationship change, and how will it end? Rated M for character death, and adult themes in later chapters.
1. The cursed job

"Today's schedule is a short one. You have two recordings of your show this morning to get done, and then at six this evening you have a Charity auction to attend." A messy looking man read from the diary he had in his hand.

"Ah, I'd forgotten all about that." The other answered, making a disgruntled face. "If I hate anything more, it's a room full of people competing with each other to look like the better person."

"I could make excuses for your absence?"

"Not necessary, I've never missed a charity auction or function. Will you be coming with me Will?"

"Wouldn't it be better to take a date of some kind? I'm hardly the best company." Will Graham put the diary back into the bag on his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're ready for you Hannibal." A crew member said in a rushed manner before heading back toward the rest of the crew.

Waving a hand Hannibal shooed the makeup artist as she tried to add the finishing touches and got to his feet.

"I'll pick you up at half five, no arguments" Hannibal straightened out the gray shirt he was wearing before putting on his plain white apron. "Oh and wear something smart..." He looked over Will and walked over to the kitchen area to get ready for filming.

Frowning Will looked down at his clothes. He was wearing dark jeans, a plaid shirt and worn sneakers. He didn't think there was anything wrong with the way he dressed.

Still frowning a little he wandered over to where the rest of the now unwanted crew stood to watch the recording.

"AND...ACTION."

Everyone hushed as Hannibal worked his culinary magic, talking through the people at home on how to make some kind of lamb dish. Will had never been much of a cook, he knew enough to live though. He also knew how to work the buttons on a microwave.

He watched them stop and start for a little longer before getting the iPad from his bag. As much as he could stand here and watch all day, he still had work to do. As Hannibals' manager he had to check his emails several times a day for potential TV appearances and invites to charity gigs. Everything had to go through him first.

"How're you doing new boy?" Will looked up, welcomed by a cup of coffee in his face. Taking it he smiled a little.

"Okay... Slowly getting used to all this." Will took a swig from his coffee, grateful for the caffeine. All these early mornings and late nights were killing him.

Beverly Katz smiled widely back at him. "Well I'm glad to see you've survived the first two weeks, that's a record."

Will grimaced slightly and looked up at Hannibal, who was talking to the camera. He'd heard so many rumours that the mans last two managers' had met misfortune, one dead and the other missing. He'd been the only one brave enough to take up this job.

'Maybe I should just accept, not argue and just go tonight without any fuss...' He thought to himself; feeling that that would be the best thing to do.

"Hey Beverly... Do you mind helping me out later? I need a suit..." Will hated asking for things, but he had nothing for such elegant functions and Beverly was the one that handled all the outfits for Hannibals' show here.

"Oh man... I've been wanting to get my hands on you since we first met."

Will gave her an odd look, unsure on how to interpret that.

"I didn't mean you you, I just meant your clothes." She grinned. "Give me your address, I already know what you'll be wearing."

Will shuffled feeling a little worried now as he swapped numbers and wrote down his address for her, what had he gotten himself into?

* * *

"I knew it! A perfect fit." Beverly walked around him, straightening out his jacket properly and smoothing out creases.

Will stood in front of his full length mirror, he felt weird; this was the first time in a long while he'd worn a suit.

Beverly had opted for a light gray suit, with a black shirt and black shoes. She'd decided against a tie after trimming his beard and taming his hair.

"Please tell me you have contacts, the glasses are a no-go."

He made a small noise of protest as she took them off, frowning a little as everything became blurry.

* * *

Hannibal Lecter pulled up outside his new managers' house. It had pleased him greatly when young Will had agreed to go out with him tonight, and with no arguments.

The last two had been demanding, rude. He hated rudeness more than anything else, couldn't stand it.

Walking up the front steps he rang the bell, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth as he waited.

The smile faltered, however, as Beverly Katz opened the door.

"Hey Mr. L, come in." She stood to the side to let him pass. "Will is wrestling with a contact at the moment, he should be down in a minute." She gave him a smile.

He smiled back, though his eyes didn't. "Oh? And what may you be here for Miss Katz?"

She laughed a little as she packed some items that seemed to be hers, into a bag. "William needed my magic touch, though I think he kind of regretted it when I told him he had to comb his hair and put contacts in."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow as he looked at her a little confused, only turning when he heard their topic of conversation coming down the stairs.

"It's Will not William, and I was fine putting the contacts in... after the fourth attempt."

Hannibal was a little taken back at the drastic change in the man in front of him, he hadn't expected him to of made so much effort.

"What'cha think? Doesn't he look like model?" Beverly said smiling again as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Right I'm off, I have a job tonight. You can keep the suit Will."

Will saw her off before turning back to Hannibal. "Sorry, I'm running a little late. Let me just grab my phone and keys, then we can leave."

* * *

Will hadn't realised the charity event was going to be such a big one. As soon as they'd arrived the paparazzi jumped all over them- Will ducked his head and tried to get through the herd, but Hannibal pulled him back, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Smile, you won't want pictures of you in tomorrow's newspapers looking miserable."

Gulping nervously, Will smiled a little. He felt like he'd been standing there for a ages before Hannibal allowed them to move on through and into the Hotel where the auction was being held.

"I think I've gone blind." Will said once they'd entered the lobby of the hotel, blinking his eyes rapidly. He really wished he'd brought his glasses with him.

"That was nothing." Hannibal smirked at him as they walked toward the large hall that had been rented for the auction.

Grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, Hannibal handed one to Will.

"Hannibal, you came!"

Will turned as someone came up to them, looking as she exchanged greetings with Hannibal.

"Don't I always come Alana, I'm just too charitable not too." He smiled at her as she laughed a little.

"Oh, excuse me." Hannibal said, placing a hand on Wills shoulder "Alana this is Will Graham, Will this is Dr. Alana Bloom. She's the one that organises all these charity events, she's very much a pure hearted angel."

Will smiled and shook her hand. "It's very nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about your charity work."

Alana blushed a little and waved a hand. "I haven't done much at all, you two are flattering me too much."

"Would you excuse me please, I have a little hunting to do." Hannibal said, patting Wills' shoulder and walking off amongst the small chatting groups of people.

Both stood silently for a second or two before Alana spoke up again.

"So are you a close friend of Hannibals'? He hasn't brought anyone with him for a while."

Shaking his head, Graham answered. "I'm just his manager, but he insisted I come with him tonight."

"So you're the one that took the cursed job!" Alana laughed a little. "Sorry, it's just Hannibal came to me after his second manager went missing. He had convinced himself that he was cursed and that every manager he'd have was going to end up the same."

Will quirked an eyebrow and looked over to Hannibal, who was talking to someone who seemed rooted to the conversation while he, in typical fashion, seemed bemused.

"Well as I've been told, I've broken the record." He looked away and back at Alana and smiled again. "If I last, I hope I get a reward for breaking the curse."

Both shared a little chuckle, Will glancing over to Hannibal again.

"Hm... I hope you don't mind me saying, but I've noticed you don't look people in the eyes when you talk."

Will's smile dropped a little at the comment, no one had said anything about his tendencies to avoid eye contact for a while. He'd gotten better at talking to and being touched by people, but at one time in his life, things like that he avoided wholeheartedly.

"Sorry, maybe I shouldn't of said anything! It's a bad habit of mine. I'm a psychiatrist."

"No, it's fine." He shook his head, smiling at her as reassurance. "You're not the first psychiatrist to analyze me, and I doubt you'll be the last. The 'gift' I decided not to use is something people in your field of work rarely see."

Alana opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted, much to Wills' relief.

"I'm sorry. Shall we find a table Will?" Hannibal smiled at his manager and steered him away from Alana. "Thank you for keeping him company."

He found an empty table at the back of the room, other were sure to join them but for now they were alone.

Lecter looked over the man seated next to him, who was obviously in his own world.

"How do you know Dr. Bloom?" Will asked, startling Hannibal slightly.

"We used to work together. But I wasn't getting any younger, and decided to work on my first love and open a restaurant. And now I'm here four years later, with six 5 star restaurants and my own TV show."

Will didn't say anything, just kept staring into space as he listened. He'd known all about Hannibal Lecters rise to fame, but nothing about the man before.

"Why do you ask?" Hannibal Lecter tilted his head slightly, studying the other man's face.

"I just remembered something from the past when talking to Dr. Bloom." He shrugged a little. "I think I might of attended one of your lectures when I studied Criminal Psychology, before I dropped out that is."

Lecter narrowed his eyes slightly, many people had forgotten that he was even a associated with that world. He had no need to be so cautious about this drop out though.

"Hm, and why did you drop out?" Even though he had no need to be cautious, he wanted to find out more.

"I was different." Will simply said and turned to the other man, smiling a little. "I don't regret it, I've managed to keep my sanity because of my choice."

The rest of the night Hannibal thought about Wills' words, his interest in the boy was increasing more and more.

He'd also managed to bag himself a large black stag statue, and knew exactly where he was going to put it.


	2. Tragedies and old faces

The knife swiftly and smoothly sliced the meat into equal sized chunks before swiping it all into a pot as the board was lifted.

"I have it on good authority that this rabbit took its last breath this morning, fresh meat is quality meat." Hannibal peered at the camera with his maroon eyes and smirked a little before going on to chop a range of vegetables and add them to the pot.

Only just getting to the house, Will Graham quietly came in not wanting to disturb the filming. Closing the front door, he turned and jumped out of his skin as his eyes met with the black stag Hannibal had gotten from the Charity auction just two nights ago.

"Jesus christ." He whispered to himself, placing a hand over his heart and blowing air up into his face.

Quickly going into the kitchen area he nodded in greeting to a few people, glancing at the filming as he crept over to stand with Beverly and Brian Zeller, one of the setup crew.

"Morning, oversleep?" Beverly whispered, giving him a small smile.

"No... I left on time, but I got stuck in a jam. The police had blocked the road off, found a body or something." Will wiped the back of his hand over his forehead, he was sweating slightly from rushing.

"Wow really? Did you get out and have a look?" Both Beverly and Brian looked at him expectantly, though it was soon replaced with disappointment.

"No, that would be troublesome for the police... I did see a couple of FBI agents though."

He'd seen more than that. But telling them anything more would mean he'd have to explain his past.

But he'd been surprised that when he got out of his car to see what was going on, he was recognised by one of the two FBI agents, even though five years had passed.

"Okay cut! That's it for today, thank you for your hard work."

Will turned and walked over to Hannibal. "Sorry I'm late, there was a traffic jam, the police had blocked the road."

Lecter didn't answer straight away, he washed his hands and removed his apron; handing it to Beverly before turning to Will.

"You have nothing to apologise for Will. You could not have foreseen the apparent jam you were stuck in."

Will opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as his phone started to ring. Frowning he dug through his bag and answered it.

"Hello? Abigail, has something happened, are you okay?" Will asked hurriedly, Abigail was a younger childhood friend. She'd been adopted by his neighbours when her parents were killed and he'd tried to look out for her since.

"Oh... You're in town? Yeah that's great."

Hannibal looked over the managers face as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt back down, noticing how much happier he looked.

"Meeting sounds good, if you're free this evening I finish at five today. Just give me the name of the hotel you're staying at and I'll come pick you up."

A few minutes later he hung up, apologising once again.

* * *

The two had finally got the work day started, Hannibal having driven them to a french café in town for an interview with the food columnist of a national paper.

He didn't really feel like answering questions, but it was part of his job even though his mind was somewhere else.

Will Grahams' good mood wasn't putting him in a better one, it somewhat annoyed him that someone else had put that smile on his normally straight face.

He hated to admit to himself that he was jealous, but he was. He'd only just found someone that actually interested him, and they were already being pulled away.

"Many Chef's have tried to recreate some of your dishes but many have failed, do you have a secret ingredient you use?"

"If I let such a thing slip, my food wouldn't just be mine anymore now, would it?" He gave the interviewer a small smirk, still half in his own thoughts.

Vaguely remembering young Will mention a new wine bar in town, he inwardly frowned; Claricé's maybe? Now should he accidently bump into them, or simply hunt.

* * *

"No arguments, I'm taking you home after this drink." Will frowned at the girl across the table as he took a swig from his glass of red wine.

"And I'm telling you a taxi will be fine. I'm not the ten year old girl you used to look after now you know." Abigail gave him a smile, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. "I'll be fine, really Will you worry too much."

Frowning, he shook his head, he wasn't taking no for an answer.

His phone rang as he was about to say something, he felt like this happened to him too often.

"Hello? Sorry I can't- Hang on a second." Looking at Abigail he pointed at her "stay..."

Taking his phone outside he spoke again. "Sorry about that. Cancelled? Oh that's fine, yeah sure. I'll let Hannibal know... You've done it? Thank you, that's much appreciated."

Hanging up he sighed; the morning shoot had been cancelled and moved back to later in the day. A long overdue lay in was going to be happening in the morning, he thought to himself as he went back inside.

"Sorry about..." He looked around, Abigail had gone. Slightly panicking he started to look for her number in his phone until he saw a small note on the table next to his glass.

'Got a taxi, call you tomorrow!'

"Women..." He mumbled, giving a relieved sigh as he scrunched the note up, leaving it on the table and pulling his coat on.

* * *

Arriving at the afternoon filming Will couldn't help be feel a small smile take over his mouth. He'd woken up in a good mood, seeing an old face and sleeping in for an extra hour made all the difference.

Nodding to a crew member who was coming out of the front door as he got to it he smiled and greeted them. "Morning!"

He was a little taken back though as they gave him a strange look and hurried off. Frowning he went in, noticing how a few more crew members avoided him.

Getting to the kitchen he finally realised why.

"Will Graham, we meet again so soon." Special Agent Jack Crawford, head of behavioral sciences stood before him, another agent behind him.

"Are you stalking me now?" Will asked, his frown getting deeper.

"No, I'm here about Abigail Hobbs."

Will felt like his body had turned to ice, he didn't need Jack to tell him; he knew.

"I'm afraid she was found the early hours of this morning," Jack sighed. "We need to take you in for questioning."

Graham didn't say anything, keeping his head down he took his planning diary from his bag and walked over to Hannibal, who had been standing to the side with the others.

"Today's schedule is all written down, I'll try and get back as soon as I can." He allowed himself to look up at the man, meeting his eyes for a split second before being escorted off the premises.

* * *

"Am I under arrest?" Will sat in the uncomfy plastic chair, up to the interviewing table.

"No, not yet at least." Crawford answered, sitting opposite him. "We found your hair on Miss Hobbs clothing, luckily we had your DNA on record from your student days."

Jack paused at that, opening the file he had in front of him.

"When was the last time you saw Abigail Hobbs?" Crawford looked up from the file he'd been looking through as he asked the question.

Will looked back for a bit, keeping eye contact for as long as he could before looking away.

"Last night. She called me to say she was in town, so we went out for a drink at the new wine bar that opened last month." His hands fidgeted in his lap as he frowned at the table.

"I told her I was going to give her a lift back to the hotel since I'd picked her up, but she was adamant she would be fine getting a cab."

Jack listened, tapping his fingers onto the table before speaking again. "And that's the last time you saw her?"

"I suppose it was." He frowned more "I got a call, I couldn't hear the person on the other end so I went outside to talk. It was work. When I went back in she'd gone, and left me a note saying she'd caught a cab and that she'd call me tomorrow...today."

"Do you still have this note?" Crawford asked.

Will shook his head. "No, I left it on the table."

Jack lent forward, leaning his arms on the table and linking his hands. "Were you and Abigail involved in a romantic relationship with one another?"

Arching an eyebrow Will looked at him. "No, we were childhood friends."

"Would Abigail of maybe wandered off somewhere else after? Maybe to meet other friends?"

"As far as I know, I was the only one she knew here. I would have thought she'd go back to her hotel, but I don't know. It's been a couple of years since I've seen her in person."

"Any reason why it's been so long?" Crawford was digging for more information. Will couldn't see how any of this was relevant. He took his time before answering again.

"Life got in the way, and I don't speak to my father anymore so I never go back to my hometown." He frowned at Jack before speaking again. "Shouldn't you be catching who actually did this rather than sit here and ask me these ridiculous questions?"

He rarely got irritated or angry, but he could feel it bubbling at the bottom of his stomach as he continued to frown at Jack.

"I think I have everything I need to know from you now." Jack smiled a little and sat back in his chair. "I'm just waiting for your alibi to be confirmed."

Will sighed and took his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he calmed himself down, there was no need to get so angry.

"So, Will. Is the everyday normal life everything you imagined?" Crawford asked, obviously meaning his dropping from college.

"Normal has been satisfactory." Will answered, placing his glasses back on his face.

"You don't wonder 'what if'? I only met you twice while you were a student, but I knew even then the talent and potential you held, and still do. I was hoping to scout you into my department once you had graduated."

Will kept his eyes on the table in front of him. He didn't want to hear this, or even think about it.

"No, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't either."

Both sat in silence for a short while, Will staring at the table and Jack staring at Will.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and a FBI agent walked in, handing Jack another folder.

"Well Will, it looks like I have no reason to keep you here. I may have to speak to you again though."

Will didn't wait for Crawford to give him permission to leave, he immediately got to his feet and walked out of the room. If he stayed here any longer he felt he'd go crazy.

Reaching the front desk waiting area he was welcomed by the sight of Hannibal Lecter, looking too elegant and graceful in his three piece suit for the dim, and damp local police station.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be somewhere else?" Will asked as he walked up to the waiting man.

"I cancelled my appointments for the rest of the day. I was more concerned about my friend's well-being." Hannibal looked at him and smiled. "Come, let us leave. I'll cook us something to eat and you can talk to me if you want to."

Will was slightly shocked at the man's concern for him. Getting over the shock he nodded slightly, looking down and following Hannibal out to his shiny black range rover.


	3. Nightmares and a good friend

_**Hello~ Just a quick message to say that the next chapter may be slow in coming, as I need to catch up on my other ongoing fic.**_

_**Thank you for reading, please Review~ **_

* * *

Will got out of his car, his hair and appearance scruffier than usual. Grabbing his bag he locked the car behind him and trudged un-enthusiastically up the drive to Hannibals house.

"Excuse me, you're Will Graham aren't you."

Will stopped as a woman with red curly hair walked up to him, a small smile across her lips and what looked like a recorder in her hand.

"And if I am?" He asked, looking her over with his heavy eyes from lack of sleep.

"Freddie Lounds, I write the tattle crime section of the tattler. I was wondering if I could have a word or two with you."

Will frowned, he'd heard all about the infamous miss Lounds, he wasn't about to let himself get pulled into her pretentious bullshit.

"No, now if you please, could you remove yourself from this property." He turned away from her and briskly walked up the steps to the front door.

"Is it true you dropped out of university because you were unstable Mr Graham? Should you really be working with the entertainment industry when you could turn any minute?" Lounds called after him.

Ignoring her he went inside and closed the door quickly behind himself, he couldn't believe this. He'd only been pulled in for questioning and already he had a reporter on his back.

He stood there for a few seconds to calm himself slightly before heading through the house to the kitchen, where everyone was setting up.

The atmosphere was awkward, he didn't like it but he chose to ignore it as he headed to his usual corner, placing his bag on the table there.

"You came today then?" Beverly placed a coffee down in front of him and perched herself on the table.

"I'm not sick, there was no reason for me to miss work. I have bills to pay." He said, picking up the coffee and taking a sip.

"Well firstly, you look terrible and secondly your childhood friend has just been killed." She frowned at him. "I would think that's enough to take compassionate leave for a week or two at least."

Will didn't answer her, he continued to sip his coffee and scan through todays schedule. He hoped to god the coffee would wake him up at least a little, he had a jam packed day.

"You're blanking me out aren't you?" Bev looked at him unimpressed and grabbed the planner out of his hands.

"I was concentrating on work." He made a grab for the planner but she moved it out of the way quickly. His reflexes were slow and clumsy today, he noticed.

"I hope you're not bullying my manager miss Katz." Hannibal's smooth voice came from behind her, his hand taking the planner from hers.

He placed the planner on the table and looked over Will, pursing his lips slightly.

"Could you leave us a minute, please." He looked at Beverly, earning a nod from her before she got up and moved off somewhere else hastily.

Will knew what was coming. Leaning against the table he drank from his coffee mug again, not looking at the other man; waiting for his lecture.

"I thought I told you not to come in today when I dropped you off at home last night, Will."

Hannibal's shadow seemed to tower over Wills tired form as he stood there.

"It's far too early for you to return after such a tragedy, and it's obvious to anyone that looks at you, how tired you are."

"I can't just sit at home." Will spoke before Hannibal said anymore, though he still avoided looking at him.

"I feel like I'll go crazy if I sit at home on my own for too long. At least at work I can keep my mind on other things."

Hannibal stood in quiet for a second, thinking things over.

"So be it...But if I think you can't cope, you're going home and staying home." Turning he started to walk away, halting slightly to say "and I'm driving, I don't trust you behind the wheel."

* * *

The alley seemed to stretch for miles, no matter how long he ran along it; stones and glass cutting his bare feet.

Panting heavily he started to slow down, the cuts on his feet burning as if an acid was licking at them.

The shadows crept along the walls and swallowed him whole, the darkness gripping onto his arms, clawing at him. He could hear them whisper, a soft mumble in the back of his mind.

And in a split second, it was all gone. He was standing alone, in the middle of a field. He could hear the sound of the ocean rolling over the sand, the sound of gulls squawking and the wind rolling over the soft grass.

It was idyllic, picturesque and a million miles from the nightmare that had encased him mere moments ago.

Walking forward, he found himself breathing in the salty air and calming down. His heart stopped pounding and his eyes adjusted to the sudden light.

As he walked, he got a knot in his stomach through fear and worry. How had he come from the darkness to here?

As he jogged up to the top of the hill, he realised he was still very much in the nightmare. The idyllic ocean was not that; it was a sea of blood and dismembered bodies. A hand here, a foot there, it rolled over the sand and onto the beach.

As he leaned over, he vomited, a cocktail of booze and blood, straight into the palm of his hands. He closed his eyes, praying that he could awaken from this nightmare, be away from the pain, but as he opened his eyes blood began to seep through his hands.

With one vicious movement, he released the neck of the woman he was gripping on to. They were alone, she had cried.

The mascara that had been so perfectly applied moments ago was now a running down her face. Her black dress that had been so carefully ironed for the night out in Clarice's was crumpled, filthy.

"Will…" she cried, "No…" With sheer horror, he realised he was squeezing the life out of his dear childhood friend, Abigail.

As she fell to the floor, her breathing slowed and just as quickly ceased. When he looked up, they were no longer at the picturesque beach, they were surrounded by trees and a thick fog.

He could see car lights up ahead and stumbled towards them, hoping to catch their attention, hoping that they could save her.

"Please stop…" he cried, "please…" The car didn't stop, the headlights blinding him as they grew closer.

He gasped as the car was about to collide with him and awoke with a start. Panicking he jumped out of bed and looked around himself.

"It's home, you're home. It was just a nightmare, none of it was real." He panted to himself as he slowly started to calm down.

Realising he was soaked with sweat he stripped himself of his clothing, and the bed sheets; throwing them all into the laundry hamper.

Grabbing some clean boxers and a t-shirt he dressed and grabbed a couple of blankets, going down to the living room and making up a bed on the sofa.

He didn't think he'd get anymore sleep that night, the nightmare was still fresh in his mind.

* * *

"Morning." Will mumbled as he walked into work the next morning, he looked a lot worse than the previous day. He was so tired and oblivious he didn't notice some of the crew looking at him cautiously, and whispering to each other.

"Will, should you really be here?" Brian stopped him, speaking in a low hushed tone.

"I had a lecture from two people yesterday, I don't need another." Will replied, dropping his bag onto the table in his corner.

"It's not that…Have you not seen the paper?" Brian spoke again in that hushed tone, confusing Will.

"Paper? Which one?" Taking some pain killers from the pocket on his bag, he took a couple before putting the bottle back, turning to Brian.

"I was afraid you hadn't…Hey Jimmy, gimme that paper." Brian called across the room, earning some concerned stares from people.

When it was handed to him, Will made a face of displeasure; the tattler wasn't his favourite paper.

"Turn to the sixth page…" Brian said, standing next to him; watching.

Complying, Will flicked through the pages until he landed on the sixth page. The page was titled "Tattlecrime" and underneath "People that the police let get away."

He wasn't going to read it at all, but he noticed the photograph of himself that had been taken without his knowing; standing completely still, he continued to read on.

He couldn't believe what he was reading, best ripper suspect they'd had yet, dropped out of uni because he was mentally unstable and he'd apparently confirmed this the other day? She'd even gone as far as to go into his childhood, mother dying when he was just a baby, his father bringing him up, the moving from town to town causing his anti-social behaviour.

Apparently this was all the makings of a serial killer. Lounds didn't know the first thing about serial killers, and knew nothing about him.

"I've never read so much rubbish in my life, does Lounds really have nothing better to do with her life than write falsities and trashy rumours?" He spat out, trying not to let his anger reach his voice.

He wanted nothing but to kill her, how dare she delve into his life like that, how dare she think that she knew him. Before he knew it he was remembering the nightmare from last night, how he'd drained the life out of Abigail.

Feeling a sudden rush of grief over him he started to rip the newspaper into pieces, a crazed and desperate attempt at erasing it.

"Will! Will Graham stop." He ignored the voice until his arms were grabbed, stilling his ripping frenzy.

"I understand you're angry but don't do this here." Hannibals low voice came from behind, his mouth near Wills' ear. "Come."

Will allowed himself to be steered out of the room, finding himself in the elaborately decorated study of Hannibal Lecter.

"You look worse than you did yesterday. Your hair is unbrushed, you're wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday and the bags under your eyes make you look sick." Hannibal moved Will to sit in the desk chair.

"Are you concerned for me, or insulting my fashion sense?" Will grumbled out, he felt like a fool. The scene he'd just caused would surely come back and bite him in the arse.

"Concerned of course, what kind of friend would I be if I wasn't?" Hannibal crouched down in front of him, looking up into Will's tired and worn face.

"Why don't you go up and use the spare room, I will personally rearrange my schedule for the next couple of days. I want you to rest."

"Are you telling me not to bother coming into work? Am I that much of a hinderance?" He knew he was overreacting just a little, but he also knew what he should be doing; he didn't need to be told by anyone else.

"No Will, I am telling you that you need time off to grieve." Hannibal calmly answered, placing a hand on Wills knee as if to reassure him.

"Now I insist you go up to one of the spare rooms and sleep for me."

Will didn't particularly want to, he'd rather work; but he had a feeling he couldn't win this argument.

Nodding in agreement he sighed slightly, Hannibal smiling and giving his knee a squeeze before standing again and straightening out his clothes.

* * *

Will had reluctantly made his way up the stairs, but found both spare bedrooms had been used as storage by the crew. Frowning and sighing he placed a hand on the doorknob of what he knew to be Hannibals room.

'Would it be rude to use his room?' He asked himself as he turned the handle and opened the door, staying stood in the doorway as he looked around the room.

He wasn't as surprised as he thought he'd be at the grand decor, he was slightly taken aback however, by the king sized four poster bed; it was most certainly the main feature of the room.

On one side of the room were built-in double wardrobes and a door to an en-suite, Hannibals bath robe hung casually on the door. The floor, he noted, was a dark solid wood, it matched the mahogany bed, and at the foot of the bed a large faux fur rug spread out; separating the colours.

Either side of the bed were side tables, both made from wood fitting with both the bed and floor. Lamps stood on both side tables, Tiffany he guessed, the green and gold colours of the lamps matching the green and gold patterned wall paper that adorned the one wall behind the bed; the other walls were just a green paint.

Running a hand over his face he walked into the room, he was too tired. He didn't care if he slept in someone elses bed. Besides, Hannibal was the one that insisted he rested.

Closing the door behind himself he looked at the bed. Noticing a small pile of books neatly stacked on one of the side tables, he guessed that was the side Lecter slept on and took the opposite side.

Taking his shoes and coat off, he placed them on, and next to, an armchair that stood in the corner. He hadn't noticed it when he was in the doorway.

He decided to sleep on top of the covers, not wanting to actually get in the bed.

The moment his head hit the pillow his body relaxed, it was amazing how good silk bed linen and a mattress as soft as a cloud could feel.

Within moments of laying down and getting comfy, sleep won and took over.

* * *

When Will woke, it was already dark out. Thumbling for his glasses on the side cabinet he put them on and sat up, noticing he'd had the covers put over him.

Putting his shoes on and grabbing his coat and bag he headed downstairs, the smell of food cooking hitting him as he descended.

Leaving his coat and bag on the hooks near the front door, he made his way to the kitchen. The house seemed so empty and quiet without the TV crew around, so much less cluttered and oppressive.

The soothing sound of soft sounding classical music pulled him from his thoughts as he reached the kitchen door, his eyes immediately locking onto the back of Hannibal as he cut something.

He'd never seen Hannibal cook in his own time and comfort before, the way he was working in this environment looked more like an art form than it did when he cooked for television.

"I hope you're feeling much better after your sleep, Will." Hannibal suddenly spoke.

Will jumped slightly in surprise "do you have eyes in the back of your head?" He asked, raising a brow and walking into the kitchen.

Hannibal turned and smiled a little "the fragrance you're wearing, it has a very…..unique smell."

Will frowned a little and sat at one of the bar stools, rolling his shoulders slightly as he resisted the urge to sniff at the collar of his shirt.

"I keep getting it for Christmas… And in answer to your earlier question, I feel alot better now, thank you." He managed a slight smile.

"Good, I decided against waking you and prepared dinner instead." Hannibal turned back to his chopping.

"You allowed me to sleep in your bed, I don't expect you to cook for me as well." Will shook his head, though he did admit that whatever was in the oven smelt mouth-wateringly good.

"You refused to eat with me yesterday, I would like you to grace me with your presence at least once. I enjoy cooking for others."

Will sighed a little, giving in. "Ok ok, I'll stay for dinner."

* * *

He was glad to see Will a little more lively, his lack of sleep and frantic episode earlier that day had worried him greatly.

Hannibal eyed Will as they ate opposite each other, it gave him great pleasure to watch as the younger male ate the person he'd been so very down about these past two days.

Drinking from his wine glass, he smiled a little; everything was slotting into it's place.

"Are you sure you won't have any wine?" Hannibal asked, placing his own wine glass back down.

"I'm sure, I need to drive home and I don't want to get stopped by the police… I've had enough of them for a while." Will made a face, obviously remembering his interview with Jack Crawford.

Hannibal sat back in his chair, Will getting arrested hadn't been in his plans. He'd thought the FBI had come for himself at first, he'd been ready to make his escape.

"I said you were welcome to stay a couple of nights, Will." Hannibal smiled once again "you did mention you'd seen someone sneaking around your house, am I right?"

Will didn't answer straight away, his brows instead bent into a frown.

"I did mention that, but I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, Hannibal. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's just that woman… She wrote that article about me, she's most probably been stalking my home as well."

Hannibal pursed his lips a little, a slight bitter taste had taken over his mouth as he remembered the article. As much as he was interested in Will, and wanted to keep him away from others; he hated it when other people were credited for his work.

"She'll lose interest soon enough. She writes about criminals, and you are not a criminal Will." Hannibal stood, picking up both of the empty plates.

"Shall we discuss this further, over coffee in the living room? Just go through and wait for me, I shall bring us a cup."

Will checked his watch, it was 8:30 already but he decided against turning the coffee down and went through to the living room.

He'd only been in here once before, but like the rest of the house he felt like he didn't belong; the decor was so very grand.

Seating himself on the brown leather sofa he looked around, a small frown forming on his face as he noticed the lack of photographs. The only pictures that adorned the room were drawings and paintings, including a large portrait of a girl above the fireplace.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Hannibal jerked Will out of his thoughts as he came into the room, placing a tray onto the small mahogany coffee table; two cups of coffee, each with a sprig of lavender sat in it.

Reading Wills unsure face Hannibal chuckled softly and sat next to him. "It is lavender coffee, I made it myself; I find it soothing after a long day."

Picking up a cup, he gave it to Will before taking his own and sliding back into his seat.

Both sat in silence, casually sipping at their coffee; Will continuing to look around the room.

"I hope you don't mind me saying… But I noticed you don't have any photographs in your living room, well, the whole house actually." Will finally spoke up, turning to look at Hannibal.

Hannibal didn't look back at him, just sat with his legs crossed and a straight, unreadable face.

"I do not have any, most were lost over the years or ended up destroyed one way or another."

Will found that odd but didn't ask anymore questions on the matter, he instead tried to change the subject.

"Did you paint these pictures?"

Hannibal flicked his eyes around the room, looking at the paintings. "All but one" he answered, pointing out a landscape he hadn't painted.

"You really are a man of many talents, I particularly like that one." He pointed at the portrait of the girl, her eyes reminded him of someone but he couldn't put his thumb on it.

"Should I make up a spare room for you? I think at least one of them is empty now." Hannibal turned to look at Will, smiling slightly.

Will was slightly thrown by the sudden change in topic. "… Wait, I said I was going home Hannibal."

"And I insist on you staying for at least a couple of nights, it will settle my worries about you."

Both of them looked at each other, Will allowing their eyes to meet, he felt like he was being sucked into them.

"Fine… Just two nights, no more than that." Will pulled his eyes away, letting them settle on the painting again.

'Ah… They're Hannibals eyes.' He thought to himself as he stared at it.

"Good, I shall get the guest room ready for you and in the morning we will go to yours together and pack the necessaries- If you like, I can lend you a pair of my pajamas." Hannibal stood, placing his cup back on the tray.

"No, thank you. I'll be fine, I don't wear much in bed...I find it uncomfortable." Will felt a little awkward telling Hannibal this, but they were both men, it was fine.

Hannibal looked Will up and down, smirking a little. "Very well, I will give you an extra blanket; wouldn't want you catching a cold."

Both headed upstairs, Hannibal showing Will to the room opposite his own. Despite being full with filming equipment and stuff earlier that day, the room was still tidy; spotless compared to his own bedroom.

Grabbing a spare blanket from the airing cupboard Hannibal gave it to Will. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I think I have everything, thank you." Will stood, blanket in arms, smiling.

"Then good night, Will. You know where I am if you need me." Hannibal returned the smile before backing out of the room and closing the door.


End file.
